Part 22 (1/2)

”Yes, my pastor at home told me to be sure and call on him,” said J.W., and took his leave of a man he would long remember.

The call of Professor Bellew was not delayed long after J.W. had found his bearings in Foochow, and the Professor's welcome was even more cordial than that of the c.u.mmings agency, though these gentlemen were, of course, the soul of courtesy. If they were not so sure as Peter McDougall that J.W. or any other American could teach them anything about selling the c.u.mmings line in China, at least they would not put anything in his way.

One important interior town, Yenping, they had hoped J.W. might visit, but unfortunately there was no one connected with the agency who could be sent with him. They understood that some of his missionary friends were ready to help him in the general enterprise, and perhaps they might be able to suggest something.

When the difficulty was stated to Professor Bellew he said: ”Why, that's one of our stations. It is a little out of the way to go up to Dr.

Carbrook's place on the way to Yenping, but we'll see that you get to both towns.”

”That's certainly good of you, Professor,” said J.W., gratefully. ”I've told you about Joe Carbrook, and I can hardly wait until I get to him.”

As a matter of fact, he had told everybody about Joe Carbrook.

Professor Bellew was sympathetic. ”I know,” he said, ”and I understand.

When you come back, if we can manage the dates, you may find something here which you ought to see.”

The Carbrook Hospital--it has another name in the annual reports, but this will identify it sufficiently for our purposes--spread itself all over the compound and beyond in its welcome to J.W. Joe and Marcia were first, and joyfullest. The school turned out to the last scholar, and even the hospital's ”walking cases” insisted on having a share in the welcome to the foreign doctor's friend.

”Tell us what you are up to,” said the Carbrooks, when they were back in the house after a sketchy inspection of the whole establishment; hospital, dispensary, school, chapel, and so forth. And, ”Tell me what you are doing with it, now that you have the hospital you have been dreaming about so long,” said J.W.

But J.W. told his story first, just to get it out of the way, as he said. Then he turned to Marcia and said, ”How about it, 'Mrs.

Carbrook'?”

”Well, J.W.,” said Marcia, ”that name is not so strange as it was. I'm feeling as if I had been married a long time, judging by the responsibilities, that are dumped on me just because I am the doctor's wife. And this doctor man of mine hardly knows whether to be happy or miserable. He's happy, because he has found the very place he wanted.

And he's miserable because he ought to be learning the language and can't get away from the work that crowds in on him.”

”And you yourself, Marcia,” J.W. asked, ”are you happy or miserable, or both?”

”She's as mixed up as I am, old man,” Joe answered for her. ”Talk about the language! I don't hanker after learning it, but I've got to, some time. If they would just let me be a sort of deaf-mute doctor I'd be much obliged. The work is fairly maddening. You know, it was a question of closing up this hospital or putting me in as a green hand. Of course there are the nurses, and a couple of students. But I'm glad they put me in; only, look at the job! Never a day without new patients. A steady stream at the out-clinic. Why, J.W., I've done operations alone here that at home they'd hardly let me hold sponges for. Had to do 'em.”

”Well,” J.W. commented, ”isn't that what you came for?”

”It is,” Marcia answered--these two had a queer way of speaking for each other--”and it would be a good plenty if the hospital were all. But we are putting up a new building to take the place of an adobe horror, and Joe has to buy bricks and deal with workmen and give advice and dispense medicine and do operations, all with the help of a none too sure interpreter. He's the busiest man, I do believe, between here and Foochow.”

J.W. wanted to draw Dr. Joe out about the work in general. What of the evangelistic work, and the educational work, and all the rest.

But Dr. Joe would not rise to it. ”I'll tell you honestly, J.W., I just don't know. Haven't had time to find out. When I got here I found people standing three deep around the hospital doors, some wanting help for themselves, and some anxious to bring relatives or friends. I was at work before anything was unpacked except my instruments. And I've been at it ever since. Everything else could wait, but all this human misery couldn't. And I don't know much of what the evangelistic value of it all will be. We have a Bible woman and a teacher in the school who are very devoted. They read and pray every day with the patients, and as for grat.i.tude, I never expected to be thanked for what I did as I have been thanked here. I'll tell you one thing; I didn't dream a man could be so content in the midst of such a hurricane of work. I'm done to a standstill every day; I b.u.mp into difficulties and tackle responsibilities that I hadn't even heard of in medical school, though I haven't killed anybody yet. And all the time I remember how I used to wish I might be the only doctor between Siam and sunrise. I'm plenty near enough to that, in all conscience. The only doctor in this town of one hundred thousand, and a district around us so big that I'm afraid to measure it. On one side the next doctor is a good hundred miles away.

Now, do you know how I feel? Oh, yes; insufficient until it hurts like the toothache, yet somehow as though I were carrying on here, not in place of the man who has gone home on furlough, but in place of Jesus Christ himself. You know I'm not irreverent; I might have been, but this has taken all of the temptation out of me. It is his work, not mine.”

J.W. turned to Marcia again. ”I thought you said this Joe of yours was miserable, I've seen him when he was enjoying himself pretty well, but I never saw him like this.”

”I know,” Marcia admitted, ”and I didn't mean he was really unhappy. But it is a big strain, and there's no sign of its letting up until the regular doctor gets back.”

The next day J.W. watched his old friend amid the press of duties which crowded the hours, and he marveled as much as the wretchedness of the patients as he did at the steady resourcefulness of the man whom he had known when he was Delafield's adventurous and spendthrift idler.

As he looked on, J.W. could understand something which had been a closed book to him before. No one could stand by and see this abjectness of need, this helplessness, this pathetic faith which was almost fatalistic in the foreign doctor's miraculous powers--it recalled that beseeching cry in the New Testament story, ”Lord, if thou _wilt_ thou _canst_”--without being deeply, poignantly glad that there were such men as Joe Carbrook. It was all very well to talk at long range about letting China and other places wait. But on the spot n.o.body could talk that way.

The visit might have lasted two weeks, instead of two days, and then the Carbrooks would have hung on and besought him to stay a little longer.

Torture would not have drawn any admission from them, but back of all the joy in the work was a something that left them without words as J.W.

and his little group from Foochow set out for the next stopping place.